


Twin Swords

by Sp00py



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Referenced Animal Abuse, Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Zuko and Azula spend some time getting to know one another again.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	Twin Swords

**Author's Note:**

> doceo_percepto said i should post this bc it reads as p complete so here u go

Zuko’s head hurt. He felt feverish, yet the royal physicians could find nothing wrong. Barring his scar and the damages it caused, he was in perfect health. He didn’t dare visit again, sure that they reported to Azula, to his father. He felt like a rabbit-mouse in a den of vipers. Paranoia crawled up his spine, and all he could think of was the Avatar spasming, falling. Dying. Zuko had no illusions that that had been what happened. He’d seen men go unconscious, and he’d seen men die. They fell very differently. It sickened him and twisted in his stomach, seeing the Avatar fall over and over, in his nightmares and in his waking thoughts.

Aang was dead. But Zuko couldn’t believe it. Not refused to believe it, but  _ couldn’t _ . Zuko had been chasing him for three years of his life, and in all that time the Avatar had been alive. He had to be, because he was the only thing that would let Zuko return home. Zuko was home, now. If he was home, Aang had to be alive. Right? The spirit water, the waterbender, surely --

“Zuzu,” Azula crooned, closing his bedroom door behind her. She always did that, inviting herself into places she wasn’t wanted. He made sure not to scowl at her. Their relationship was fixed, but it was a tenuous fix built on the body of a child. Zuko found it difficult to even look at Azula, but he wouldn’t scowl.

“What is it, Azula?”

She pouted. “You’re not happy.”

“.... What do you mean?”

“Don’t think I don’t know my own brother,” Azula said, tutting as she came over and draped herself over his shoulder. She felt so hot, she was cold. Like her fire. Like her lightning. Zuko couldn’t repress a shudder that Azula had to have felt, but she didn’t move. “You’re back in father’s good graces, back where you  _ belong _ , but something is wrong. It couldn’t be the Avatar --”

“No, he’s dead.” Zuko swallowed, and Azula tensed, like a predator about to pounce. When she did nothing to follow that up, it only put him more on edge. She liked to keep pushing that line, as though he’d suddenly and spontaneously change his answer. As though he’d admit to anything. Which is absurd. They both saw Aang. She even delivered the finishing move, and if there was one thing Azula knew how to do, it was kill small, innocent things.

“You know what, Zuzu? We’ve not had a chance to celebrate your victory --”

“ _ Your _ victory,” he reflexively corrected.

Azula hugged him tight, despite the awkward angle. “ _ Our _ victory, big brother.” He wanted to believe her, because she was his sister, because once upon a time Zuko liked to think she cared about him. In her own fiery way. He couldn’t fault her her inability to express it well. Neither were good at that.

Awkwardly, because it had been so much longer than the three years he’d been banished since they were really siblings, Zuko patted Azula’s arm. “Our victory,” he echoed. Even if he didn’t land the final blow, he’d helped kill the Avatar. That was a burden he deserved to carry for the rest of his life if Aang truly was dead. 

Azula pressed a kiss to his temple and it was so much like what their mother would do, so different from what Azula would do. It was a knife stabbing through him. “Meet me in the garden tonight, and we can celebrate, just the two of us. Also, your scroll is upside down, dum-dum.”

Then she was gone.

Zuko looked down at the report. It was upside down. With an angry grunt, he flipped it right-side up and forced himself to actually read it.

* * *

He wanted to not go to this weird little rendezvous Azula had conjured up -- he hadn’t even agreed to it so could simply not, without going back on any promises -- but Zuko couldn’t deny he wanted distraction. True distraction, not endless reports from years ago to catch up on, not new nobles and dead ones. A lot had changed in the Fire Nation since his banishment. Laws were passed, and others abolished. Things worked quickly here, unlike in Ba Sing Se. Maybe Azula had changed, too. He’d only been back a few days, and it felt like a hundred years had passed in the castle. He could only imagine how horrible it must have been for the Avatar -- no, he wouldn’t think of that, not now. 

The garden was a bad place. He regretted coming as soon as he set foot on the soft, trimmed grass. It held too many memories, even though he’d never seen it dressed like this before. It hurt to see it so different, yet still the same under all the trappings. He felt an agitated heat crawl up his neck, and he grit his teeth.

Azula was standing by the pond, empty of the turtle-ducks he used to love as a child. Zuko’s heart froze, because they had been there just earlier today. After their mother left, Azula had seen to it that they never returned, either. It was just her and him, and the turtle-ducks had no place in their family anymore. That was what Azula said. She was nine, and Zuko had cried for days.

No, it was night. They were simply sleeping. They’d returned to the palace like he did (or at least more had been bought at some point after his banishment). Azula was past that stage, Zuko was sure of it.

The stars were washed out by lines of lanterns strung tree to roof and back again. It was warm and smelled of night-blooming flowers. Everything was so much more welcoming than dinner had been, formal and stiff, a family that was barely a family waited on by silent, fearful servants. Zuko didn’t see any servants here, right now.

Azula turned to regard him with her feline eyes and predatory grin. Zuko almost wished he was wearing his Earth Nation rags and living in a cave instead of dressed in opulent clothes in a royal garden right now. Some how, at some point, this world had become alien to him. This wasn’t his sister, a master strategist and master bender at fourteen. All he could see was the angry little girl, abandoned by her mother who she thought didn’t love her, burning -- burning --

Zuko focused on his breathing and pretended that Azula couldn’t see the flames in the lanterns dimming and brightening in time as he tried to steady himself. Fire was about control. So was ruling a nation. So was Azula. She’d always been so much more in control than him.

Azula sat, and invited him to join her on a small blanket spread out. Unlike their mother, she wouldn’t deign to sit on the ground. There wasn’t much room, but Zuko sat as close to the edge as possible. The stones beneath him were cool.

“Why so nervous, Zuzu?”

“It’s just… I’m still getting used to being back, I guess,” he offered with a paltry shrug. “For so long it was just me and uncle. I thought -- well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Azula scooted closer. She was wearing something lighter from her normal formal wear, an evening gown that afforded maneuverability, while Zuko hid behind the layers of his own robes. Her voice was quiet, soothing, as she poured him some tea. “What did you think?”

Lapsang souchong. Zuko would recognize that smokey, heavy scent anywhere. Mixed with spices Zuko could even identify. Aniseed. Cinnamon. Cloves. Something Uncle Iroh would probably find too heavy for his tastes, these days. Zuko hoped he was doing well. He knew he wasn’t, though, because prison was harsh, and even moreso to traitors. Zuko had done that, too. 

“What?” he asked dumbly as she passed him a cup, his mind far away in an Earth Kingdom teashop. Uncle had wanted so little in life.

“You thought something about being back. Or about our uncle?”

_ I thought you didn’t care. I thought father didn’t love me. I thought I was nothing  _ \-- Zuko’s throat tightened around any of those. “Uncle had a teashop in Ba Sing Se,” he blurted out, and immediately blushed. “Oh, but I suppose you already knew that.”

Instead of calling him an idiot because of course she had -- how else could she have known to lure him into the castle -- Azula just sipped her own tea. “Do you miss him?” Zuko was silent. She pressed on. “Even though he’s a traitor?”

“I do miss him,” he admitted, because he could never convincingly lie that he didn’t. “But he chose his path, and I chose mine.”

“And now you’re home, with people who love you.”

Zuko thought he said, “I am,” but his voice was so choked and quiet, no words made it out.

“ _ I _ missed you, Zuzu,” Azula said, resting her head on his shoulder. A hand came up and curled around his own, and he could feel the energy of her firebending tingling along his skin as she reheated his tea, which had gone cold despite being in the heart of the Fire Nation. He tried not to let it scare him, even as memories seared into his nerves of her firebending when they were children, and she was the prodigy and he was a disappointment. When they played games that weren’t really games when their mother couldn’t stop her anymore. Azula loved him in her own way, but her way tended to be painful. “Did you miss me?”

This close, Zuko could smell the faint crackle of ozone on her skin and in her hair, hiding under an achingly familiar scent that he couldn’t place, because it shouldn’t be here. But it was soft, and comforting, just like his sister could be, sometimes. Like now. He couldn’t live in the past, neither the distant one of sibling rivalries nor the near one of his own crimes. It was time to move forward. It was time to take his rightful place, heir to the throne and a legacy of fire and blood. Zuko’s honor had been restored in the eyes of those it mattered most to. That was all that mattered. Try not to think on those who suffered for it, and the faint throb it caused at the base of his skull.

Did he miss her. Yes -- no -- it changed with the days. Azula managed to tangle up all his feelings in one explosive package. She was so much their father, and so much their mother. Zuko had hated and loved both over time, one abandonment after another. Azula hadn’t abandoned him. She was just a child, and  _ he’d _ left her, and she missed him. But Zuko was back, now. And he could be honest about that.

“I missed you too, Azula,” he said, risking a small smile as he looked at the lanterns reflected in the empty pond. Things could change. The Fire Nation changed. He had changed. And Azula changed, too.

* * *

Azula could feel the unsteady breathing that defined Zuko’s firebending as she rested against him. He never did master the correct techniques for breathing, for control. He wore his heart on his sleeves and it had burned him. It would again, but this time it would be Azula leaving the scars.

Zuko talked, now. Quiet, voice wavering. He was such a wreck, and would be the same as Fire Lord. Azula traced whorls on his palms and wrists. His hands were rough, unbefitting a firebender, but it made sense for one who had to resort to simple weapons like a commoner. Where she excelled, he’d always struggled. Pathetic.

With him back in their father’s good graces (as much as a failure like Zuzu could be), he was back in line for the throne, but she didn’t consider him a threat. How could a boy who cried for traitors and enemies and family ever truly rule? Even if, by some impossible twist of fate, Azula didn’t get the title, she’d still be in control.

And when she was Fire Lord, well, she hadn’t been lying when she said she missed Zuko. He was always especially fun to hurt.

She dug her nails into his palm. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to feel his fingers twitch and his breath hitch, sappy words cut short. He knew how easily they could cut.

“Is something wrong?” Azula asked. Zuko shifted his hand so he could hold hers gently -- keeping her fingers contained -- and shook his head. “Well, then, you were saying about the turtle ducks?”

“I’m glad they’re back. I know you didn’t like them that much.”

“But you do,” she said. “Which is why I had more brought in when it was clear you were coming home.”

“Thank you.” His voice was quieter even than before, and he gave her fingers a slight squeeze.

“Anything for you, dear Zuzu. I wanted you to know that this is your home.” Azula could have gagged on her saccharine words. But those were the things Zuko liked. Home, family, belonging. If he wasn’t so desperate for those things, he’d probably have them, but he was always so soft and weak.

“You’ve changed so much since I left,” he continued after a moment, sounding almost thoughtful. “I was afraid you hated me or something because of that. Especially after trying to capture me and uncle, I mean --”

“I was only following father’s orders,” Azula interrupted quickly, before his suspicious nature could lead him down the wrong (but right) paths. “How could I hate you? You’re my brother.” Lying came so naturally to her, it was sometimes hard for even Azula to know what the truth was. This was… this was the truth, she supposed. Zuko wasn’t worth hating. Not anymore.

“Oh, when you first left I was upset, of course. I was ashamed of you and the dishonor you brought on our family.” A sharp inhalation. The flames in the lanterns flared. “But I was also a little happy. Mother loved you, and, clearly, Father loved me. I didn’t have to worry about you stealing him away.”

“Mother loved you, Azula. Our parents… our parents didn’t have to pick one or the other. It wasn’t a competition.”

The flames flared again, but Zuko’s breathing hadn’t changed. Azula took a moment to gather herself. “You don’t need to lie. She knew what I was. Always scolding me, always coddling you.”

“I wasn’t as strong as you,” Zuko murmured. “Or as smart, or as proper. I think, maybe, she was just worried more about me. Like, um, like how you give more attention to an injured kitten than its siblings.”

“Yes,” Azula said, feeling better almost immediately at his admittance of his failings. He was trying to comfort her, and it was so awkward and clumsy. Azula had never cared for an injured animal in her life. “You aren’t as good as me. But I don’t mind. And it doesn’t matter what Mother thought of either of us, does it? She left, Zuzu. She left you.” He flinched, and sat a little away from her, but it just made Azula want to drag him closer. So she did. He thought it was a hug, and hesitantly put his arms around her, hands resting on the small of her back like broken-winged birds. “It’s just you and me, now.”

“You smell like her,” he said, realization coloring his words in confusion.

“Oh, was this the perfume she used too?” Azula asked off-handedly. “I hadn’t realized. It’s a classic scent.” She’d almost thrown the bottle at one of the servants when she first smelled it, assaulted by unwelcome memories and tumultuous feelings. Azula had ordered it specifically for those associations, but for Zuko, not her. It had shaken her for the barest of moments.

“It’s nice.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I have changed. I’m a woman now, and even though I’d much prefer training, fighting,  _ conquering _ , I have to think of other things, too.”

“What other things?” Zuko asked.

Azula couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “Husbands, families. Children. Womanly things.”

Zuko snorted. “I can’t imagine you with children,” he said flatly. If it had been someone else, Azula would have taken offense to the statement, but Zuko was just tactless. And not wrong.

“Only if I was kicking them.” She laughed, and he laughed too. His hug tightened briefly, then he sat back, a smile on his face.

“I pity whoever marries you. You’d be more terrifying than a sabertooth-moose lion mother.”

“As any good wife should be, dear Zuzu,” Azula said, fluttering her eyelashes.

He blushed as though ashamed to be caught sharing a familial moment with her. “Though you’re only fourteen. You still have time to be a kid and not worry about that stuff.”

“Almost fifteen. We’re not children anymore, if we ever were. We have a nation to rule. A father to make proud. Honor to uphold.”

That word for whatever absurd reason was a trigger to Zuko, and he nodded, resolutely.

“Together, though.”

“Always.”

Zuko smiled, and she returned it. Oh, he was so easy to play. Azula  _ was _ glad he was back.

* * *

Zuko returned to his rooms, everything about him relaxed and ready for bed. He’d offered to pick up the dishes and blanket, which Azula waved off with a reminder that they had servants for that. He hadn’t touched his tea. She poured it into the pond and watched the dark amber liquid disappear almost instantly. She didn’t much like tea.

Then she returned to her own rooms, dark and soft and chilly without her presence. A servant was summoned and a bath drawn. She wanted the stench of her mother off of her.

Normally, Azula would be stripped and scrubbed, but tonight she wanted solitude. Cowering, they vanished, leaving her to strip herself. She bunched up the robe and sniffed it. The perfume, the tea, but also another scent. Zuko. She didn’t know if she’d recognize it without the perfume, because it had always clung to him as a child, protected under mother’s arms.

He thought she had loved them both, but he could never see the looks she’d send Azula. Brows furrowed, lips pursed, hands comforting him after being burned or cut or pushed into the water, but gaze elsewhere. On her.

Azula was doing him a favor, honestly. He was too soft to be Fire Lord.

She slipped into the warm bathwater and let her mind wander back to those fond days, where she’d hold him down and he’d flinch and cry (but never hit back) as fire danced on her fingertips and across his skin. Despite how mean she was, he’d always come crawling back. Sometimes he’d bring her things, shells or pebbles, and agree to play games or read to her. He wanted so badly to be her big brother.

That had begun to change when they grew older. She got friends (Zuko never did, which didn’t strike her as odd until now), and she got crueler. He still wouldn’t fight, but he learned to avoid. One didn’t exacerbate the other, Azula was sure, but she hadn’t liked being denied.

She knew what Zuko wanted, to go all the way back to when it was just the two of them and, though she could hurt him, he could justify it. But he’d fought her, finally. Poorly, wildly, but still. It had been shocking, disrespectful, and  _ thrilling _ . The game had changed. She’d break him like an unruly eel-hound.

Azula washed away the perfume and the feel of his hands, hopeful, scared, just wanting validation. He was fighting with himself more than anyone else, and Azula just couldn’t have that. If he was going to be miserable, which if she had her way Zuko would, she wanted it to be by her hand and her words. She’d destroy him like she’d destroyed the Avatar -- and it would be just as glorious, for such different reasons.

Without servants to cater to her, Azula had very little reason to linger in the bath, so washed away any remaining suds and stepped out, steam rising from her skin. Soon, she was dry, robed, and slipping into bed.

She had hoped to find sleep easily, content with her plans for the future, but Azula found herself staring at the canopy of her bed instead.

Zuko was so hopeful. Together. Always. Azula had said what he wanted to hear, but she hadn’t thought of what it could mean.

He really had changed. Grown taller, broader. His scar had healed, and she wished she’d seen it when it was new and shiny and tender to the touch, when he still smelled of scorched skin and hair. It was impressive, nonetheless. The heat Father must have applied to melt flesh and twist his expression. She wondered if Zuko could see or hear on that side.

She wondered if she could do the same to the other. Then they could stay together, just like he wanted, because she’d be all he’d have left.

A silly thought, but it was fun to imagine. Azula slipped into pleasant dreams of burnt skin, screaming, and tears.


End file.
